


Fierce and Tender

by DaydreamingofDragons



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Massage, Post-Canon, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 16:01:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7808206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaydreamingofDragons/pseuds/DaydreamingofDragons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning after Dorian comes home for good</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fierce and Tender

_“tell me_   
_of something fiercer_   
_than the love with which_   
_i gaze upon you_   
  
_of something softer_   
_than the tenderness_   
_with which i hold you.”_

-Sanober Khan

A strange thing, to wake in the morning entirely free of responsibilities. Unfamiliar, a feeling Dorian only vaguely remembers from when he was a very small child. He hadn't appreciated it then, of course. How much more precious the feeling is as an adult. To finally, _finally_ , have the freedom to luxuriate in bed and nowhere he has to be ever again, unless he so chooses.   
  
To wake alone though, that is a more familiar and far less welcome thing. The room is warm with morning sunlight from where they forgot to close the curtains the night before, making Dorian squint and grumble. Bull is conspicuously absent. But, when Dorian rolls to his front and buries his face in the pillows, the sheets next to him are warm, the mattress still indented with the weight of a heavier body. Bull can't be far, although Dorian is left feeling rather put out at having been allowed to wake alone.   
  
As if summoned by Dorian's will, the bed dips and Bull's hand runs warmly up and down Dorian's back. "Morning, kadan. Going to move over and let me in?"   
  
Dorian makes a considering noise. Moving again sounds like entirely too much effort when it is so early and he is so pleasantly achy. Groping across the bed, he finds the Bull's wrist and tugs insistently. He twists his head to the side and peers sleepily up at Bull. His own lips turn upwards at the soft smile on Bull's face. Either taking the hint or obeying his own desires, Bull leans down far enough for them to kiss. Messy and inaccurate and Dorian's neck protests. He whimpers when Bull pulls away, pouts until he returns, laughing. Then Dorian is laughing too and kissing becomes entirely hopeless as they giggle against each other.   
  
Afterwards, Dorian refuses to either let go of Bull's hand or move and Bull solves the issue by lying on him. His body and breath are hot against Dorian's back and he shivers. "Alright?" Bull murmurs once he's settled. Dorian knows he's careful with how much of his weight he lets rest on him, but he still feels covered by him. Grounded and light as air in the same moment. Held, engulfed. Loved, immeasurably. He lets out a deeply satisfied sigh and that seems to be answer enough for Bull.   
  
Dorian doesn't sleep again. Just drifts in the warm space of Bull's arms. Sighs as Bull presses soft kisses across his back and shoulders. Groans at the feel of Bull's half-hard cock against him. The sensation seems to go straight to his own groin, makes him shift against the sheets and groan again.   
  
Arousal grows between then slowly but inevitably. Embers fanned to flame with soft noises and touches, Bull's lips against Dorian's back, Dorian's hips pressing up into Bull's body. Until Bull shifts, kneels over Dorian and leans low to whisper in his ear, "Will you let me fuck you again?"   
  
Dorian shudders and moans in delight. He has wondered, sometimes, how long this can possibly last. Fears... oh, not that he could cease to love Bull. Although he had feared that once. Now though, he has loved the man for over twenty years and will do so for as many more as he is granted. But still, he sometimes expects to find himself less passionate. For their intensity to inevitably fade away. Everytime he finds he still wants Bull as much as he had from the very beginning is a surprise and a thrill.

“Yes,” he moans, fervent. “ _Please_.”

Bull laughs, a low pleased sound, and kisses his neck. “Alright, kadan.” He shuffles down the bed, inelegant on his knees. Huge hands stroking up the back of Dorian’s thighs have him sighing and spreading his legs at Bull’s urging. Bull cups his arse and squeezes, laughs again at Dorian’s gasp. Dorian arches up into Bull’s hold, tilts his hips suggestively.

A spasm of pain shatters Dorian’s floating arousal, flaring across his lower back and forcing a quite different gasp from him. His exhale is hissed between gritted teeth.

“Dorian?” Bull’s hands go from gripping to soothing in an instant--of course he reads the difference so easily--and Dorian sags back into the mattress. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m perfectly fine,” Dorian hurries to assure him. He imagines it might be more convincing if his voice weren’t still tight with pain. “I simply - _ah_ -” no, perhaps staying very still would be for the best, “I simply slept awkwardly.” That isn’t even a lie, he had woken in the night curled in a very odd position over Bull’s chest. Damn his unconscious instinct to cuddle.

Bull strokes lightly over Dorian’s back, the softest touch. Dorian relaxes under the attention, breathing deeply as the bright pain fades back into a dull ache. “You sure? You took it kind of hard last night.” True enough. After Dorian had indulged his love theatrics and announced to Bull--across the dinner table--that his retirement from the magisterium had been offered and accepted and he was home for good, “If you will have me.” Bull had most certainly had him.

The guilt is plain in Bull’s voice and Dorian suppresses a wince. Of course Bull blames himself. Overly responsible to a fault, as ever. Nevermind that Dorian had been an enthusiastic participant. He loves him extravagantly, but oh, he can be infuriating.

Dorian takes a risk. Not that he minds reassuring Bull, but he would rather it wasn’t necessary. Besides, he has no wish to lose what was shaping up to be a very pleasant morning for the both of them. Better to head the problem off, if possible. “I did,” he admits, twisting gingerly to grin up at Bull. He tries to make sure there is only pleasure in his voice. “There was this great brute of a qunari and he utterly ruined me.” More quietly, in a conspiratorial whisper: “I rather insisted upon it.” A subtle enough reassurance he hopes Bull won’t feel he has to argue against. _I do not blame you_.

The silence drags out, with Bull’s hands still stroking Dorian’s back.  A little firmer now. “Hmmm,” Bull hums at last and Dorian relaxes, hearing the smile in it. “Sounds like fun.You’re pretty hot when you’re all insistent. Did you like it?”

Dorian laughs, remembers the previous evening, dragging Bull’s hands to where he wanted them, urging him to hold more tightly. “I did.” And, because he is happy and there is no harm it in, adds, “I love him, you know.”

It makes Bull’s breath catch. “I heard a rumour.” He drops a quick kiss between Dorian’s shoulder blades. “Pretty sure he loves you too.”

“Well, good.” Dorian is absolutely not blushing.

Bull laughs. “Still, we could probably have waited until we got to the bed. 

“Speak for yourself,” Dorian mutters into the pillow. They had been impatient, perhaps. He had come for the first time pinned against the kitchen door, Bull a little later on the chaise lounge by the large window. Both events, he would argue, entirely necessary and greatly appreciated. Even if his back is now not thanking him. “You’re not going to fuck me now, I suppose.”

“Sorry, kadan. Not when it’s going to hurt you.”

Dorian sighs dramatically. “You’ll be saying we’re too old for all the fun things next.”

“Nah, that’d mean I’d have to keep my hands off you and pretty sure that isn’t happening.”

“I should hope not. Now - where are you going?” Bull eases himself away from Dorian, who turns to glare at him. He regrets the movement a second later and has to muffle a groan of pain into the bedding.

Bull rests a comforting hand on his back. “Relax, kadan. I’m not going anywhere.”

Dorian does his best to obey and let the pain settle back down. Bull is not gone long and soon returns to his position kneeling over Dorian. Glass clinks, there is the smell of something vaguely floral and the sound of something being placed on the nightstand. Then Bull’s hands are on Dorian’s back again, slick with oil and rubbing in long easy strokes.

Dorian moans helplessly, completely melting into the sensation. He can’t even bring himself to grumble about the indulgent way Bull laughs at him. “Your knees,” he does manage to protest after a few minutes. “... Going to cripple yourself...” He trails off into a long pleased sigh.

“I’ll just get you to rub it better for me,” Bull replies, smirking, and Dorian groans dutifully at the innuendo. Awful, not at all endearing.

He groans in satisfaction as Bull increases the pressure. Hisses and squirms when he presses down on sore muscles. It hurts, but Bull is good at soothing, breathing gentle noises and letting up before Dorian can’t stand it anymore. “Alright?”

Dorian nods. Better than alright, really, with Bull’s hands and attention on him, even if the massage were useless for his back. Which it is not, he can feel the tightness loosening as Bull increases the pressure again. Breathe through the ache, bask in the relief.

It’s so easy to lose track of everything in the press of Bull’s hands. Drifting, Dorian couldn’t say quite when it happens but eventually he comes back to himself to the realisation that he is hard and mindlessly rubbing himself against the sheets in time to Bull’s hands. He stills himself with some effort and lifts his head free of the pillows. “You, amatus, are a wretched tease.”

“Oh, back with me are you?” Bull sounds distinctly pleased with himself. “And it’s only a tease if I don't put out.”

Dorian considers that argument. Considers, also, Bull. Makes a guess. “Are you hard?”

“With you like this? Uh, yeah?” Bull demonstrates, palms Dorian’s arse, hold his cheeks apart and rubs his hard cock between them.

“Flatterer,” Dorian gasps. “More. _Oh_. More of that.” He’s rocking against the sheets again and can’t bring himself to care.

Bull, damnably, slows down. “Impatient. What’s the hurry?”

“ _Bull_ ,” he sounds petulant, desperate. He doesn’t care about that either.

“Hey,” Bull says, soothing. “We got time.” Such a strange luxury. Bull feels it as keenly as he does, he thinks. The wonder in his voice. “I could go draw us a bath, get you _really_ relaxed, then fuck you nice and slow.” Despite his words his hips keep moving against Dorian and his breath comes unsteadily.

Dorian laughs. His own breathing is no steadier. “Amatus, is this part of some sordid scheme to fuck me in every single room?”

“Well, shit.” Bull’s laughter puffs against Dorian’s sweaty back, makes him shiver. “It is now. Damn, I should’ve thought of that myself. Getting old.”

“Oh, yes.” Dorian arches up, rubs deliberately against Bull’s cock. “Positively decrepit.” He moans. “Oh. Bull, like this.” Moves up against Bull and down against the sheets, shivering with the pleasure of it. “Don’t make me wait.”

“Dorian,” Bull’s breath shudders out of him. “Shit. Of course. I’ve got you.” He squeezes Dorian’s arse, startles a gasp from him.

It's so good, the way Bull moves against him. All weight and heat and friction. It's perfect. He groans Dorian's name as if it's the last word he remembers. And Dorian can't remember how he ever made himself walk away from this but that is  _done_. Never-- _never_ \--again. They will do this every damned morning if he has his way. He rather doubts Bull will complain.   
  
Bull, it seems, can’t stand his slow pace for long. He ruts against Dorian in short jerks, squeezing Dorian's arse with one hand and stroking himself with the other. Dorian matches his rhythm easily, quick flexes of his hips that soon have them both gasping. Breathless demands for more. Another thing Dorian can't be ashamed of: how very close he is just from rubbing against the sheets and hearing Bull moan and repeat his name.   
  
Dorian frees a hand from where he hadn't realised he'd taken a death grip on the sheets. Reaches down to stroke himself. Bull releases his arse to grab his wrist and Dorian moans, bereft and frustrated. But Bull doesn't stop him, just slides their fingers together and wraps both their hands around Dorian's cock.

“Bull!” Dorian yells as Bull squeezes him, thrusts shamelessly into their joined hands. He trails off into a whine at the rhythm Bull sets, the way he urges him closer and closer to orgasm, until he is gasping incoherent phrases into the bedding and squirming under Bull’s weight.

Still, it is Bull who comes first, all across Dorian’s back, groaning and pressing him down into the mattress. Dorian follows seconds later, shuddering when Bull tightens their grip around him and coming messily across their joined hands, yelling Bull’s name.

Bull eases his weight off of Dorian almost immediately, shifting to lie next to him. Dorian makes a discontented noise at the loss and gropes after him. When that makes no progress in getting Bull back he rolls over after him with a groan. His breath catches. The most beautiful sight: Bull curled over him and watching him as if _Dorian_ is the most wonderful thing he has ever seen. It’s enough to make him laugh, the sheer joy and amazement of it. That it is morning and they're together and there is no end in sight.

They laze together for a time in the morning light. Starting to edge towards afternoon, perhaps. A fact dismissed as unimportant. As if Dorian could care about the time when Bull is there, propped up on one elbow and curled around him. Close enough to reach up to kiss, or urge him to lean down, to much the same result.

Eventually Bull rolls onto his back, grunting and stretching out his leg. In a warm and indulgent mood, Dorian refrains from the _I told you so_.  He does, however, wriggle himself into a position where he can rest a warmed hand on Bull’s knee. Bull groans appreciation and rests a hand on his head, stroking his hair.

“What do you want to do?” Bull asks eventually, voice a low rumble.

“In general or right now?”

Bull laughs, delighted. “Oh, got plans have you?” He does. Relentless sex aside. Hopes really, nurtured in secret. The things that they could do if they were free to follow their hearts. Bull has them too, of course, although they have never spoken of them. The places they might go and the things they might do together. “Tell you what, how about we have that bath and then we can talk about your plans?”

Dorian peers up at him suspiciously. “Is this a plan to fuck me in the bathroom?”

“Maaaaybe?”

Dorian snorts. “Well, as long as the water stays  _inside_ the tub this time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Orignally posted on my [tumblr](http://daydreamingofdragons.tumblr.com/post/148905944849/fierce-and-tender). I hope you liked it. Let me know what you thought?


End file.
